Imagine Jesus coming back during Christmas.
Imagine the teachings of religion were real.
Imagine then, what would our current celebratory process do to our chances to enter into the mythical gated community in the sky. The penance, purgatory, and inevitable exile into Hades most would face, would bring fear into every consumer.
But hey, we've all signed into a social contract with a Pagan icon. One who is a gluttonous stranger, who judges us constantly, and shows up once a year to decide, depending on our deeds or expenditures, if we're worthy of praise or punishment. I, of course, am talking about the capitalistic idiocy we've agreed to with this Santa Clause we've all deemed as normal.
Yes, I'm an old curmudgeon, because I can take inventory, and view the tens of thousands of dollars I've spent on others, and they on me, on trinkets and bric-a-brac and items I and others will covet until the next new thing arrives. I'm finally at the age where the future is tomorrow and the brightest day may be behind me. I guess that's why they call being elderly the twilight years. Makes sense.
I think about how we're taught to think. Sign into an agreement for five years, for a car, one that will depreciate as you turn the ignition. Even sillier, commit to 30 years for a house, you'll grow tired with or too old, or poor, to maintain in ten or twenty. Even those weekly or monthly things we do that make no sense in today's world, such as magazine subscriptions or health clubs we never attend. I am still learning. Putting away this amount here and this amount there, only to find that this fat man is making his money the other 364 days a year, all so I can save to buy the Paw Patrol toy for a child who stopped liking Paw Patrol the day after I asked him what he wanted.
So, who am I to judge and tell others what to do with their money? I'm nobody and I intend on spending my money, which lately, has been hard-earned, on an event. On a shared meal, drink, or simply on a cup of home-brewed coffee or tea, because screw capitalistic ventures like Starbucks or Dunking Donuts. I want my time with my niece and nephew and each minute will be worth more money than I've made in a lifetime.
I pity people who think the number of gifts, or the amount they spend matters more than that Christmas dinner or that walk around the block with grandma after dessert. I frown down upon those who could have their families surrounding them, nestled in their pajamas, while the little ones, blind to the atrocities of this Santa Clause, open presents and show glee that will last just long enough to get them home for a good night's sleep. Sure I understand the excitement of a child Christmas Eve, but maybe if we taught our child sustainability and the importance of humanity over the American "Dream," we could have better moments, communication, and lives.
Most of you will overspend, overeat, and over-dramatize the coming week. You'll pay dearly financially, health-wise, and most importantly, mentally, all the while, missing the key fact that all this if forgotten by New Year's Day. Then the planning for Easter, Passover, or whatever capitalistic cult you've chosen. You'll stress, you'll spend, and you'll hope Uncle Steve doesn't bring up Trump at as you pass him the canned cranberries. Trust me, he will, and that moment and your daughter or father on his phone, texting or posting photos to social media will dominate the evening. You'll all hug, kiss, and thank everyone for their presence, then gleefully celebrate the quiet and solitude, ignoring dishes (unless you're me....ask someone), and bitch and moan about the stain on the tablecloth you use twice a year. Ah, how merry and festive. The stress of the money spent outweighing the look of the young ones, when they see. They've missed you, whether it be a year, a month, or a day. They believe you love being with them and your actions will mold who they become as teens, adults, then as parents, grandparents, and friends. These moments, spent on phones, complaining about expenditures and all the superfluous garbage, will make them detest these holidays and try to avoid them, just like most of you are doing now.
Some of you have faith. Maybe it's in the birthday boy's life and his teachings, or maybe it's in something higher. Maybe it's in the fact that you have signed into another social contract. Maybe you did so at a young age, or maybe, like me, you've found this out by the loss of someone else. Maybe you realize that the holidays aren't about a gift, whether it be giving or receiving, but maybe it's about knowledge, compassion, and the simple moments when you're there, maybe a small gathering, or maybe a room full of people, but that moment, when you and another connect and that entire day is memorialized by that singular moment.
As the years pass by, it has dawned on me that there is not a single gift I've ever received that I have a true memory of. Without photographs, I'd be hard-pressed to recall a single one, and I truly mean that. Yet, I remember tiny moments, when those who have molded me into who I am, were simply present, not only physically, but connected, spiritually, if that's your word. When we both shared something that lasted a lifetime and whether alone or in a crowd, nobody else shared that specific moment. I would like to think that's what religion, faith, and understanding is about. I'd like to think, if Jesus were around, he'd give me a wink and let me know I got it. He seems like a good bloke. I'd like to think he'd think the same of me, my flaws notwithstanding.
I know only a handful of my friends read this and for those of you who do, while we don't generally exchange gifts, please know that when I say I'll be there for you, I will always do my best. It may not be with bags of gifts or fancy desserts and wine, but I will be there, for you. I'm not sure the monetary exhange rate of friendship or love, but I know it's the one luxury I can afford and the only luxury I'm willing to accept from you.
Thanks!
Imagine the teachings of religion were real.
Imagine then, what would our current celebratory process do to our chances to enter into the mythical gated community in the sky. The penance, purgatory, and inevitable exile into Hades most would face, would bring fear into every consumer.
But hey, we've all signed into a social contract with a Pagan icon. One who is a gluttonous stranger, who judges us constantly, and shows up once a year to decide, depending on our deeds or expenditures, if we're worthy of praise or punishment. I, of course, am talking about the capitalistic idiocy we've agreed to with this Santa Clause we've all deemed as normal.
Yes, I'm an old curmudgeon, because I can take inventory, and view the tens of thousands of dollars I've spent on others, and they on me, on trinkets and bric-a-brac and items I and others will covet until the next new thing arrives. I'm finally at the age where the future is tomorrow and the brightest day may be behind me. I guess that's why they call being elderly the twilight years. Makes sense.
I think about how we're taught to think. Sign into an agreement for five years, for a car, one that will depreciate as you turn the ignition. Even sillier, commit to 30 years for a house, you'll grow tired with or too old, or poor, to maintain in ten or twenty. Even those weekly or monthly things we do that make no sense in today's world, such as magazine subscriptions or health clubs we never attend. I am still learning. Putting away this amount here and this amount there, only to find that this fat man is making his money the other 364 days a year, all so I can save to buy the Paw Patrol toy for a child who stopped liking Paw Patrol the day after I asked him what he wanted.
So, who am I to judge and tell others what to do with their money? I'm nobody and I intend on spending my money, which lately, has been hard-earned, on an event. On a shared meal, drink, or simply on a cup of home-brewed coffee or tea, because screw capitalistic ventures like Starbucks or Dunking Donuts. I want my time with my niece and nephew and each minute will be worth more money than I've made in a lifetime.
I pity people who think the number of gifts, or the amount they spend matters more than that Christmas dinner or that walk around the block with grandma after dessert. I frown down upon those who could have their families surrounding them, nestled in their pajamas, while the little ones, blind to the atrocities of this Santa Clause, open presents and show glee that will last just long enough to get them home for a good night's sleep. Sure I understand the excitement of a child Christmas Eve, but maybe if we taught our child sustainability and the importance of humanity over the American "Dream," we could have better moments, communication, and lives.
Most of you will overspend, overeat, and over-dramatize the coming week. You'll pay dearly financially, health-wise, and most importantly, mentally, all the while, missing the key fact that all this if forgotten by New Year's Day. Then the planning for Easter, Passover, or whatever capitalistic cult you've chosen. You'll stress, you'll spend, and you'll hope Uncle Steve doesn't bring up Trump at as you pass him the canned cranberries. Trust me, he will, and that moment and your daughter or father on his phone, texting or posting photos to social media will dominate the evening. You'll all hug, kiss, and thank everyone for their presence, then gleefully celebrate the quiet and solitude, ignoring dishes (unless you're me....ask someone), and bitch and moan about the stain on the tablecloth you use twice a year. Ah, how merry and festive. The stress of the money spent outweighing the look of the young ones, when they see. They've missed you, whether it be a year, a month, or a day. They believe you love being with them and your actions will mold who they become as teens, adults, then as parents, grandparents, and friends. These moments, spent on phones, complaining about expenditures and all the superfluous garbage, will make them detest these holidays and try to avoid them, just like most of you are doing now.
Some of you have faith. Maybe it's in the birthday boy's life and his teachings, or maybe it's in something higher. Maybe it's in the fact that you have signed into another social contract. Maybe you did so at a young age, or maybe, like me, you've found this out by the loss of someone else. Maybe you realize that the holidays aren't about a gift, whether it be giving or receiving, but maybe it's about knowledge, compassion, and the simple moments when you're there, maybe a small gathering, or maybe a room full of people, but that moment, when you and another connect and that entire day is memorialized by that singular moment.
As the years pass by, it has dawned on me that there is not a single gift I've ever received that I have a true memory of. Without photographs, I'd be hard-pressed to recall a single one, and I truly mean that. Yet, I remember tiny moments, when those who have molded me into who I am, were simply present, not only physically, but connected, spiritually, if that's your word. When we both shared something that lasted a lifetime and whether alone or in a crowd, nobody else shared that specific moment. I would like to think that's what religion, faith, and understanding is about. I'd like to think, if Jesus were around, he'd give me a wink and let me know I got it. He seems like a good bloke. I'd like to think he'd think the same of me, my flaws notwithstanding.
I know only a handful of my friends read this and for those of you who do, while we don't generally exchange gifts, please know that when I say I'll be there for you, I will always do my best. It may not be with bags of gifts or fancy desserts and wine, but I will be there, for you. I'm not sure the monetary exhange rate of friendship or love, but I know it's the one luxury I can afford and the only luxury I'm willing to accept from you.
Thanks!
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